


Caught in the smoke

by magpiedeployed



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied denial of feelings, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Theyre both lowkey thirsty tho come on, mild sexual content in the first chapter, mute doesnt understand his feelings, rated explicit for the next chapter, the OFC is just smokes daughter lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpiedeployed/pseuds/magpiedeployed
Summary: Mute's a man filled with surprises, and Smoke should really learn that.or...Smoke garners an interest in Mute after being invited out one night, and maybe he's starting to get a little too interested...





	Caught in the smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catpiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpiss/gifts).

> gift for@catpiss who never fails to interest me in bad ideas (buying r6 being one of them ;) )and one of my biggest inspirations for writing. Thank you so much for just being you and supporting me throughout the years. I know how enthusiastic you are about these two idiots, so this is for you :).
> 
> Also, side note i'm not sure if Smoke's daughter has a name that's canon or at the very least widely accepted so let me know please if i'm missing something and i'll change it. I just whipped up "basic english girl names" in my handy dandy name book and took off with that.

<strike></strike>The first time they talked was over chips. The offer of joining Mute’s escapade to one of the many run down fish and chip places’ flying right over Smoke’s head, as if it was normal for the reserved brit to invite anyone with him anywhere. In the beginning of the outing they talked in stiff conversation, avoiding anything deep or meaningful and stuck to the normalities of small talk. Recent sport games, past missions, and redundant coworker gossip. A conversation so one-sided, Smoke would’ve tried his best to make an excuse to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that it was _Mute_ he was talking to, a man who’d caught his immediate interest since the first time he’d saw him-even before Rainbow was organized. Each smart quip and jab twisted the younger operator’s lips into a coy smile, that only he and a few others were graced with. Not the usual refined calculated smile he gave others for the benefit of being polite to their antics, _No._ One that flashed teeth, with lips curled upwards and letting out a honeyed laugh that was everything opposite to what he’d first expected of Mute. It was uncomposed, reckless, genuine. Smoke would kill to hear it again, and so each laugh he got out of the Brit spurred him on and kept him glued to his uncomfortable seat. It gave him motivation to continue the conversation, feeling a warmth surge through his chest when eventually Mute opened up and started quipping back-and if it wasn’t for this night Smoke would’ve just kept to his assumption that Mute was a robot incapable of understanding how other people worked and merely existed to pump out achievements to make you feel like shit and try harder. The prodigy of SAS, who one night seemed to randomly garner an interest to someone who was undoubtedly far below his level.

It wasn’t just being invited out that surprised Smoke the most though, because it seemed as if throughout the entirety of their unhealthy dinner Mute was genuinely trying to get to know him in his own awkward little way. It didn’t even seem malicious at all, because as far as he knew the only time Mute was vaguely interested in anyone’s personal life were criminals taken in for questioning. Although Smoke wasn’t the most adept at reading people’s intentions, Mute asking questions about his video game preferences rather than his deepest darkest fears and vulnerabilities didn’t really scream _“I’m going to blackmail you and use this against you.”_ It was… cute. Even though Mute seemed genuinely disappointed in his tastes (proclaiming “_Fortnite? really?_ “ As if it was the worst game he could possibly be playing) it wasn’t hurtful or unironically judgeful, it was friendly banter. Jesting between two mates, as if they’d known each other for years rather than a mere few hours. It was.. Refreshing. Something new and breathtaking. Sure, both Sledge and Thatcher were respectable individuals who both had their own quirks he appreciated, and enjoyed their company, but he could never really talk to them as easily as he did with Mute.

“...If you’re really having problems loading into games, just put it on your SSD drive. Trust me mate, it’s a bloody godsend and hey-are you even listening?”

Smoke chuckled dryly, because _no_. He wasn’t listening. He was too caught up in how Mute tended to exaggerate his explanations with vague hand movements and how his face lit up whenever he got the chance to elaborate on topics he had a worrying amount of knowledge on. Mute seemed vaguely offended for a split second before laughing along with Smoke, shaking his head as he abruptly got up and stretched-exposing his naval. Not that he was staring, or at least not intentionally.

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Mute turned on his heel before walking towards the exit, an annoyingly smug confidence shrouding his steps, and seemed to expect that Smoke would follow him like a goddamned dog. And he did, though not before shoveling as many chips as he could into his mouth before rushing towards Mute-fretting that if he stalled for more than a second he’d lose the younger Brit’s attention. And things were only _just_ beginning to get interesting, and once something caught his interest it was painfully hard to let it go. Not until he’s milked the substance dry, though Smoke could tell Mute was going to be something that’d hold his attention for a long while to come.

The second time they’d talked was at a pub, having been invited to go along with the other two SAS operators, though both he and Mute divulged away from the other two after they (or well Smoke) had a few drinks and _insisted_ on needing fresh air. Mute didn’t drink. He seemed adamant turning away even the tiniest sip of alcohol and if it wasn’t for the fact that Smoke was tipsy, he would’ve pried more to get a better gauge of Mute’s ideologies and personality he didn’t already know.

The two shared their thoughts on current events, the topic so impersonal and safe Smoke should’ve caught the red herring-yet it seemed as though Mute was taking advantage of his weakened mentality. He allowed him to spill his thoughts out loud no matter how crude, his filter turned off and the amusement glinting in Mute’s impeccable cocoa eyes only surged him on more. Like a lonely teen caught in the center of the popular kids’ attention, spewing out straight garbage and foolishness just for the validation and their approval.

“Why’d you drink like this?” The question was sudden, asked randomly and cut off one of Smoke’s many ramblings, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Smoke was intoxicated he would’ve immediately backtracked, possibly became enraged at Mute’s intruding question. Yet he didn’t, he was caught off guard and still in his decapacitated state of wanting to drone on and on to impress Mute no matter how personal and intimate it unusually was. Smoke just desperately wanted to see Mute smile at him, so he humored his inquiry without a second thought.

“Because it’s the only time where I don't have to think. I don't have to feel or worry-Mark, it’s so fucking grand I don't know why you don't do it. I’m free from myself, from my responsibilities for just a moment.” But unlike before, Mute didn’t smile or laugh. Smoke instantly deflated, because Mute seemed _genuinely disappointed._ And it wasn’t like the stupid “Oh? You play Fortnite?” disappointment from last time that was teasing and for the sake of humor.

Because instead of mischievous amusement glinting in those pretty brown eyes of his, it was pity. He looked almost ghastly, and the warm atmosphere dissolved and suddenly Smoke felt cold. Until he realized the warm atmosphere from before was a mere facade;because it’d been cold as balls during the entirety of their chat-only now Mute finally blew it away with a stare that pierced through Smoke’s entire being leaving him vulnerable and alone.

“Don’t you have a kid?” Mute stared at him like he’d killed his dog, and Smoke’s breath caught in his throat. He was confused and agitated, annoyance flourishing throughout him because why was he being asked things like these when only a few moments prior they’d been discussing politics? It made Smoke suspicious and confused, Mute’s condescendence leaving him baffled and absolutely livid. He’d done nothing wrong, and no matter how how hard Smoke thought about it he couldn’t piece together what he could’ve done or said to make Mute question his drunken state.

“ She’s at my mum’s for the weekend. I’d never drink like this when she’s still around, what do you take me as? ‘M not a fuckin’ selfish idiot, but I’m not a bloody poster boy _prodigy_ incapable of human sin either. There’s nothing wrong with letting loose a little bit and having a few indulgences every once in a while, Mark. ” The anger sobered him, making him far more alert to Mute’s sudden shifts in demeanor-not that he stayed long to piece them together anyways. As soon as he’d made himself clear, he went back inside and left his interrogator outside in the bitter weather to suffer the silence and cold English night alone. Smoke watched Mute from afar inside the safety of the pub, staring at the back of his head outside one of the tinted windows and ignored the boisterous conversations surrounding him. He studied the tall man with a piercing gaze. Blood was roaring in his ears, and anyone around him steered clear of him-not that he could blame them. He probably came across as a radiator of pure fury, a stereotypical maddened drunk without the unjustifiable violence-yet it wasn’t the alcohol flowing in his bloodstream that made him this way.

The third time they talked, Mute had tracked him down in the workshop a few days after their outing at the pub. The air had stilled almost immediately, an awkward tension between them evident to anyone who bothered to pay any attention to either of them. Mute was hesitant, seemed to be overanalyzing and calculating the right steps to take and approached Smoke the same way one would approach a complicated calculus problem. But he wasn’t an equation. He was a Human being, thank you very much. Unpredictable, and nothing could ever possibly help you solve people. Smoke has tried and failed.

Smoke gave an aura of indifference to Mute, put on a shroud of carelessness and probably appeared to be giving the Brit the cold shoulder-yet he always flicked his gaze to the thoughtful stature of the taller man when he deemed it safe. He kept Mute in his periphery vision as he pretended to invest himself in his chicken scratch notes, though his mind always drifted to Mute who stood out of place a few paces away just standing there. Watching him, as if he was a piece of vintage art. Smoke didn’t make the move to start the conversation. Mute would’ve never come to him if he didn’t have a motive and a goal to accomplish out of this conversation.

“An old friend of mine died of alcohol poisoning two months ago, had a kid and everything. Got a little carried away, sorry.”

Smoke stilled, finally turning to face Mute, utterly baffled at the randomness of the statement because that was one hell of a conversation starter. Smoke remained silent, staring at Mute with a wide-eyed expression. _Oh_. He supposed it had explained Mute’s behavior a few days prior, and he realized with slight embarrassment that Mute had been _concerned_ for him. Not condescending-or at least not entirely. Smoke pursed his lip, fiddling with the strings of his dark jacket as a minuscule distraction to the overwhelming seriousness of the conversation.

“Ah.” Smoke said eventually in understanding, glancing sheepishly at the taller man. He was at a loss for words, sympathy and compassion being a tricky puzzle he could never quite solve when it came to things like this. Though Mute seemed relieved at his lack of words and was probably just as uncomfortable with exposing this more intimate part of himself as Smoke was learning about it if the way his composure relaxed at the silence indicated anything.

“There’s another shite fish n’ chips place I'm thinking of checking out later. I’ll pay.” Smoke’s lips quirked upwards in a smile, eyebrows raising as he pondered the offer-as if there even was a reason too. Still, he liked to relish sadistically at Mute’s spiking anxiety at his lack of response. Noted down how Mute shifted his gaze away and started toying around with his fingertips as he drew out a long “_hmmmmmmmmmm_….” with exaggerated pursed lips to keep himself from smiling and blowing his cover.

“I don’t know,” Mute snapped his head back to Smoke almost immediately and almost seemed distressed. Smoke grinned before running his hand through his dark hair to push the obnoxious strands away so he could really familiarize himself with this anxious side of Mute.

“I suppose I can,” Mute visibly relaxed, breathing a large exhale he’d held in and gave Smoke a tentative smile and a nod-mentioning something about meeting him around 19:00 but Smoke wasn’t paying attention.

Because Mute had dimples that accentuated his youthful features and a soft laugh that was laced with sickeningly sweet honey and left Smoke thinking about how much he wanted to draw out this particular side of Mute along with the other more private parts of the man he kept safely hidden from public viewing. He wanted to know more of Mute’s troubles, his bad quirks, and the secrets he kept to himself. Not even in the usual “_I’m going to hold these against you if you fuck me over_” kind of way either-because he wanted to truly get to know Mute and help him with whatever he could.

And if those weren’t the words of a dead man, he didn’t know what was.

-

“Sorry mate, I can’t. It’s Chip’s Night.” Smoke grinned, meeting Mute’s gaze from across the room of the mess hall to which Bandit followed suspiciously. Smoke nearly crumbed into a pile of pure sweetened mush when Mute beamed at him, and Smoke was surprised that Mute didn’t immediately combust and spurt out glitter and happy kittens himself. Bandit followed his gaze with suspicion, eyes narrowing as they landed on Mute’s figure. Smoke gave the German operator a meek shrug, not even bothering to wipe the smug smile off his face. It was payback for all the times Bandit left him for Montagne’s company, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna give up the opportunity to get back at him.

“What the fuck is Chip’s Night? Does that even fucking exist?” Bandit eventually said after a pause, and Smoke didn’t miss the agitated undertone lacing Bandit’s words like venom.

“It’s a British thing, you wouldn’t understand-I don’t ask questions about Deutsch shit so leave me be.” Smoke replied, drawing out and accenting ‘_Deutsch_’ as a coy way of getting under Bandit’s skin to bring back their usual banter instead of having Bandit ponder about the sketchiness of his and Mute’s new friendship.

“ Chip night Ist, wenn uhhh-Sie Chips essen. Ain’t it obvious? Literally called it ‘Chip’s night’ for a reason, not much to it.”

Smoke let a sharp laugh when Bandit punched his arm hard mumbling something about his god awful translation, though the sharp pain was forgotten about because he felt a certain pair of eyes staring at him from afar. Certain attentive brown eyes usually caught up in blue notes and historical articles having eyes only for him at this moment, and Smoke tried his best not to marvel in pride at somehow being the center of the other Brit’s attention.

It’d been roughly 3 months since their first outing, and they’d developed a routine of spending every Saturday night at whatever shitty fish and chips place they could find in search of the worst possible one. Smoke wasn’t even a fan of the food, yet spending the time with Mute made the sickening food worthwhile. It brought a new kind of excitement to his life, and Mute always kept him on his toes because Smoke always feared of missing an important piece of Mute’s self-expression. Yet no matter how much of a gauge he’d devised of Mute’s personality, he could never predict him. The man was a mystery, completely devoiding any expectations and although the normally elusive nature of anything annoyed Smoke to no end he appreciated the challenge.

The man was full of surprises. That’s why when he asked Mute if he’d like to stay over after Mute pulled into the lot of his flat, he had been utterly thrown off track when the younger man said “yes”. Not that he was complaining, quite the opposite really. Though he prayed to god that Abby didn’t leave the flat a complete mess and cleaned up a little bit before going to her friend’s house, though the chances of that happening without being asked were very unlikely.

The atmosphere was tinged with uncertainty and a protruding feeling of the unknown that left Smoke anxious. The room was flooded with an obtrusive unseen entity that seemed uncomfortable at Mute’s presence in something so personal as his own home and tinted the mood of the room into one of skittish hesitation. Neither of them knowing quite what to do, taking their first steps in the ocean but never having learned to swim. It was an aberration, neither having made the effort to get to know one another as intimately as seeing their home. It was sanctuary. An escape from intimacy and the outside world. Yet Smoke was unphased by this unspoken law where he should’ve been uncomfortable at allowing Mute to probe around his home, picking up picture frames and personal decorative items. Instead, he felt content.

Smoke was showing a piece of himself he would’ve never allowed anyone else to see; the light of his life, his garden of Eden, safe space filled with items that gave minute details to himself. Smoke wasn’t too sure on why he’d asked Mute to come inside, and he was even more clueless as to why he hadn’t snapped on the younger operator for peeping around and messing with his deliberately arranged shit. Smoke recalled a time where he’d yelled at Bandit for even _glancing_ at a picture frame that’d been purposely turned upside down, and it took months for him to allow anyone inside his flat after moving. Partly due to the complexity of inviting friends over when you also have a daughter lurking about, and partly because the idea of letting anyone know anything other than what he chose for them to see of him was distasteful and knowing others on a more personal level risked complications. Anything could happen anytime, and if he’d get too attached things could go very wrong and jeopardize a mission or even worse-himself. So he kept everyone at an arm's length, the only person who truly got to know him was Bandit and that was unintentional and something he still tends to worry about.

Yet with Mute, it was different. He wanted Mute to get to know him just as much as Smoke wanted to get to know him, and his prerequisite for any friendship was thrown out the window for Mute. Hell, he almost _wanted_ to get the pleasantry of being able to worry about Mute and played around with the idea of being concerned about him as if Smoke was a damsel waiting for her soldier lover to come home from war. God, he was _fucked_.

“Aye, Imma change my clothes. There should be a couple of sodas in the fridge if you’d like em’, just make yourself at home.”

The minuscule chore of changing was a welcome distraction and he tried his best to focus on the task of slipping on basketball shorts and an old t-shirt rather than how he could hear Mute shuffling around the living area. The sound of the television being turned on made Smoke smile as he put a particularly expensive cologne on. A relatively untouched delicacy he’d gotten from Abby for his birthday last year. As much as Smoke liked the stench of dried sweat and chip grease, he didn’t want to take any chances of it deterring Mute from him.

Slipping out of the haven of his room, Smoke was immediately confronted by the sight of Mute lazing on his couch watching a history documentary though immediately seemed to perk up upon hearing Smoke enter the room. He was wide-eyed and seemed hesitant, as if he was unsure if he was overstepping his boundaries despite being literally told to ‘make yourself at home’. Cute.

“Would’ve taken you for more of a science documentary type of guy,” Smoke wanted to facepalm himself for his choice of a conversation starter, yet refrained when the edge of Mute’s lips twitched into a relieved smile.

“Y’know that’s not the first time I’ve heard someone say something like that.” Mute said with a grunt as Smoke made his way over to occupy the space on the couch next to Mute, attention drifting to the documentary. A documentary showcasing the Italian renaissance and its influence, something that surprised him and would’ve expected his interests in history to lie in major wars or military expansion. Or perhaps that was his own ideas and expectations of Mute, though if he knew anything about the man it should be to expect the unexpected.

And although he was by no means a culture, globalism, or art history nerd, hearing Mute passionately talk about certain Italian influencers was awe-inspiring. His elegant flow and diction elaborating on the many different ideas founded kept him fully aware of what was being explained in the documentary even though he personally was uninterested. Mute often kept him on his toes engaging him in conversations and debates, making him genuinely think about things he would’ve never even imagined himself thinking about. It was an amazing and unforgettable experience and left him with a pleasant warmth in his chest long after Mute left. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he sat in comfortable darkness and embraced the following episodes of the documentary with a newfound respect and admiration, falling asleep to the sound of a snobby South Englishman narrate about humanism’s ideologies.

He changed his mind. The Italian Renaissance was now his favorite history topic.

-

“Why are you all dressed up?” Abby’s teasing voice was heard shouting from the living room as Smoke shuffled around the kitchen, making a coffee despite it being far too late to have one. He’d definitely be staying awake now for most of the night, though that was the plan of action. He’d never drink the bitter liquid otherwise when he could have other far more sweeter pleasantries.

“I’m not dressed up,” Smoke defended himself with a snort, stirring a very generous amount of sugar in his coffee as he took a seat on a lounge chair adjacent to the couch Abby was situated on. Abby strewed herself across the couch, her eyes married to the screen of her phone and hogged the remote to the television under her body leaving Smoke to suffer from having to watch whatever garbage she indulged in. Pure evil.

“You never wear that cologne unless you’re doing something semi-important, and I’ve literally never seen you wear anything but sweat pants and t-shirts other than when you’re working. I didn’t even think you’d own a pair of nice jeans let alone a jumper. Also, you gelled your hair. What the fuck, who are you and what have you done with my dad?” She mused glancing over at Smoke with a raised eyebrow, glossing over Smoke’s figure with amusement. Smoke huffed, suddenly feeling rather silly and debated on whether or not to go back and change back into hot garbage. Though he immediately scrapped the juvenile idea almost as quickly as he thought of it.

“You’re too bloody smart for your own good, you know that? Also, watch your mouth young lady, you’re not old enough to curse in front of me yet.” Smoke grumbled jokingly as he fumbled with the sleeves of his jumper, sparing a glance at a giggling devil who stuck her tongue out at him teasingly before returning her gaze to the electronic in her hand.

“When are you going to tell me about her? I noticed ya know? You’ve been going out for a while now and you’re actually texting someone, so ya know.. I kind of assumed you met someone..?” Smoke winced. Too. Damned. Smart. He reiterated. He winced at a mention of ‘her’, not quite knowing how to elaborate that the person he’s been seeing was a him-but it wasn’t like that mattered much. He wasn’t dating him or anything of the sorts. They had just become somewhat close friends. Sure, Smoke couldn’t deny the attractions he’d begun to harbor for Mute-but he was almost certain the Mute wasn’t as interested. Perhaps his lack of interest didn’t even apply to him being another man but rather being just asexual or something. Mute never joined in on sleazy conversations and was rather daft when confronted with flirting of any type and oh-has Smoke tried flirting with him. Little touches here and there, the occasional heartfelt compliment, etc yet Mute seemed to have devised a blockade of ignorance to it. It was okay though-Smoke was just ecstatic at being able to be one of Mute’s first choice of company anyways.

“It’s not like that, I'm just seeing a friend. I’m going over to his flat for a few hours so behave. No surprise parties or anything of the sorts-or if you do at least clean it up good enough for me not to notice. Actually screw it, the place is a bloody mess it wouldn’t even matter if you trashed it more or not.” Smoke jested keening into the sound of his daughter’s soft laughter, the familiar protective warmth surging throughout his chest along with inflamed pride at being able to make her laugh. The topic was left to dry, conversation shifting to a less serious one as Smoke inquired about the show broadcasted on the television and Smoke privately hoped that this conversation would never come up between them again. 

Mute’s flat was a stark contrast to his; clean, tidy, organized. Devoid of any personality apart from a few posters or figurines of his personal interests here and there, the furniture all keeping a very monochromatic blackish color scheme. Smoke didn’t see any photos of family-and it wasn’t like how Smoke was with photos either where he’d just hide or flip them upside down when company was around. It was obvious what Smoke did to avoid snooping eyes: empty spots atop tables and shelves with dust littering around the leaving imprints where the photos would have been. No, for Mute it seemed as if he had lacked such pleasantries to begin with judging by the way how each decorative item was arranged to fill in a certain aesthetic on each shelf or table and having no room for anything else. It was odd. As much as Mute seemed to like history, he seemed hesitant about having anything that reminded him of his own history.

“You look nice,” Mute said shortly after Smoke entered his flat, the taller man’s brown eyes tentatively sweeping over Smoke’s body and lingered long after Smoke walked in. Smoke glanced at Mute, smirking sleazily and finding relief that he wasn’t the only one who’d decided to dress nicer than usual. Mute was wearing jeans as well; fitting garments that accentuated his lower physique quite nicely whenever he’d spared himself a risky stare.

  
“So do you,” Smoke replied thoughtfully to which Mute hummed haphazardly before striding over into the kitchen, Smoke following close behind as his eyes scanned the surrounding area of Mute’s flat. Never before has he felt so privileged to be at someone’s home than he did now. Smoke watched as the younger operator shuffled around in his pantries and cupboards, pulling out a few packets of tea and a kettle with an inquisitive look when he’d finally addressed Smoke.

“Care for some? I don’t really have much of anything right now, but you can’t go wrong with tea.” The other Brit mused softly, flashing Smoke a quick smile when he’d accepted. He wasn’t that big of a fan of tea, and certain ones often made him nauseous so he’d disagree with Mute’s statement, but the relieved smile Mute flashed him when he’d accepted was worth it and silenced his sarcasm in the process.

The herbal aroma of the boiling tea filled the air eventually, a stench that usually made Smoke queasy; having never been one to be able to enjoy the stereotypical British pleasantry. Yet in this case, the smell only added onto the cozy mood drifting around the atmosphere. The air was electric, and Smoke felt sparks shoot up his spine any time his eyes met Mute’s. The dingy faded kitchen light provided contours and deep shadows that illuminated Mute’s features. Despite the lackluster lighting, Mute was glowing-a beaming expression adorned the younger operator whenever Smoke would crack a joke or offhandedly compliment him. Whenever they didn’t speak, the chaotic sounds of harsh drum beats and mediocre vocals filled in the silence via Mute’s phone. Sometimes, especially in a case like this, words weren’t needed; the looks they shared spoke volumes and provided enough fulfillment that was impossible to be brought by words.

“Sugar? Honey?” Mute hummed, fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter along to the instrumentals playing violently on his phone.

“_Please_. Pour as much as you can.” He said half-jokingly before letting out a loose rumble of laughter as Mute’s eyebrows quirked up, surprised but vaguely intrigued.

“If you say so,” Was the only warning he’d gotten before the _bloody madman_ poured nearly the entire bag of sugar into the cup until it nearly overflowed, more sugar than tea, and really he should’ve seen that coming. The man was absolutely insane. Smoke was at a loss of words and gaped at Mute as he stirred the tea with a misleadingly innocent hum before setting down the monstrosity in front of Smoke with a smirk.

“You better fucking drink the entire thing or else you owe me mate, you used like half of my sugar.” Mute exasperated with an over-dramatic huff, stirring himself a measly teaspoon of honey into his own tea. Unbeknownst to Mute however, Smoke would probably drink toilet water for the right sum of money. Going into diabetic shock drinking the sugared down tea was nothing.

“Cheers,” The tall demon across from him said, clinking the porcelain cups together before taking a sip all whilst maintaining eye contact. The bastard even had the audacity to stick a pinkie up as he took a sip with an over-exaggerated slurping noise that had the same auditory appeal as nails on a chalkboard.

  
Two could play at that game though because shortly after, Smoke attempted to down the entire glass in one go-much to Mute’s horror. Specks of sugar fell down to the floor and atop the countertops, and regret immediately soaked in as the unpleasant taste of scorching tea and an ungodly amount of sugar burned on his tongue. Smoke grimaced, nearly choking on the taste.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, oh my god-I'm not cleaning that mess up.” Mute laughed, watching Smoke flail around hopelessly to find a source of water.

“That’s fine, doll. I can lick it up off the floor for you if you’d prefer.” He got out eventually after nearly sucking off Mute’s sink to get the taste and scorching temperature off his tongue.

Conversing while Smoke cleaned on his hands and knees, sweeping sugar particles into a dustpan wasn’t the way he’d thought he’d spend his time-yet he certainly wasn’t complaining. Mute’s small talk while watching him amusedly as he struggled with finding each tiny piece of sugar was fulfilling enough, even if it mostly consisted of Mute pointing out the tiniest bit of the cursed sweetener and saying “ you missed one “. He probably didn’t even care, but merely relished in the annoyance that’d flash across Smoke’s face.

He felt small under Mute’s gaze, the already tall man feeling even taller when he was crouched down-but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. Far from. He couldn’t help but shake the slightly horny thoughts coming into his mind about their height differences, though he blamed the exhaustion getting to him and making him think irrationally and filterless. He’d never really dabbled in such intimate thoughts about Mute-merely recognized his attractiveness but finding it out of reach. Mute was levels above him-smarter, younger, hotter.

_More composed._ Smoke added with a frown, looking up from the sugar infested tile flooring to meet Mute’s gaze. He thought back to earlier, listening to the chaotic music that seemed to flood Mute’s playlist and vaguely remembered faint pain to the hums that sung along to the melodies. He thought back to when he’d lashed out at Smoke that one night about drinking. He thought back even further, during the first days of Rainbow, where Mute would tap his foot incessantly whenever he was in a situation he hadn’t liked and wanted to get out of.

Was he really more composed? Or was that another one of his ploy conventions and facades to fit in and find his place? He wanted to find out more; perhaps there was a reasoning behind it-or maybe Smoke was crazy. Smoke eyed Mute warily, his observation being met with confused resilience. Smoke even recognized a look of slight panic, as if not understanding Smoke’s thoughts and intentions terrified him. An interesting conception, he’d have to dig into it deeper at a later date.

“What?” Mute asked, a slight edge to his tone that Smoke didn’t miss. _Better shut it down._

“Nothing, you’re cute.” Smoke said in hopes of shutting down Mute’s defensiveness, a trick usually only working on those younger. They’re more inexperienced; naive to deception. Not that it wasn’t true, Smoke did infact think Mute was cute. _Painfully_ so. Yet he doubted saying “_Hey, why the fuck do you act like how you do?_” was an appropriate response to Mute’s concerns.  
And it worked, Mute seemed to relax with an uncomfortable smile. He’d probably just blow it off, as he normally does to Smoke’s attempts at flirtation, and go back to talking about the previous conversation topic. Smoke has long accepted Mute’s rejections to his affections, though that didn’t make him any less resilient and-

“You too,” He heard the words fall from Mute’s lips in hesitation as if he was treading on murky waters-unsure if he was in the shallow or the deep abyss of the metaphorical body of water. Lucky for him, Smoke has long been drowning in these waters and was adamant about bringing Mute down with him-hopefully teaching him how to swim in the process. Smoke grinned because _now_ his night was getting more interesting. Not that the sugar-tea fiasco wasn’t, this was just a _different_ kind of interesting that sated a different part of Smoke.

“Aw, thanks. Decided I wanted to not look like complete trash, glad to know my attempts were not forgotten or overlooked.” Something familiar; Humor and sarcasm. He could almost feel Mute’s brain storm in an endless battle, hesitation painted sloppily across his face yet seemed to want to continue on and add more. Which was unusual. This is where he’d normally backtrack the conversation and deter it from escalating into something _new_.

“You never look trashy though.”

“Even when I'm wearing sweats and a stained top?”

Mute averted his gaze, a tint of red warmth resonating on his cheeks. Mute gave a meek nod that he would’ve missed were it not for his own intense stare before moving back into the kitchen area, placing empty cups and dishes littering the counter into the sink. Smoke stood, dumping the dustpan’s contents into a bin before moving to lean over the countertop. The only physical barrier between him and Mute, who was pretending to be distracted on his task in the sink. The first awkward silence in a long time insinuated, and Smoke realized belatedly that the only time they’d experienced this together was during the first few times they’d met up. A time period of uncertainty; unsure of what the right things to do or say were, as they were only just beginning to understand each other. To be fair though, this was uncharted territory they were delving in-neither quite knowing how to go along the conversation and maybe admitting to wondering about Mute’s methods of self-preservation would’ve been far better than this.

But he liked the challenge.

“Have you ever kissed anyone Mark? Or dated anyone?” He was playing with fire, yet being burned was never a fear for him and actively sought out to put his hands directly into it-ready to embrace the full consequences of charring his skin.

Meanwhile, Mute was frozen. Glancing at Smoke with a tentative bite on his lip in thought, still and unmoving. Smoke was sure ice was running through Mute’s veins as if he was unsure if fueling the fire was a smart idea. As if the fire would melt him to his core and leave him vulnerable, but it’d only be fair. Smoke was basically laying himself out bare right now, leaving no possible misconceptions for his ongoing attraction.

“Ah-yes? Kind of, uh-kissed this one girl who’d liked me at the time. She just cornered me in a friend at the time’s birthday party and kissed me. I never really had the time to worry about things like dating, so I never really dabbled in anything by my own choice.” Smoke hummed in acknowledgment of Mute’s words, a wave of certain anger rising in his bloodstream. If he wasn’t thinking irrationally before, he definitely wasn’t now. His filter was gone, stripped away by deep and gorgeous brown eyes replacing with crude impulsiveness.

“Kiss me then.” Smoke blurted out without a second thought, anxiety pooling in his gut as Mute stiffened. Hesitation. Maybe he shouldn’t be so direct like this_. This was a mistake._ “I mean, wait, that doesn’t count. That’s not a real kiss. That’s just someone forcing themself onto you,” Smoke backtracked, hoping to somehow save himself yet if he’s learned anything about himself: he was beyond redemption.

He expected Mute to regard him with disgust-perhaps yell at him. Or maybe if he was lucky just ignore him and change the topic, and Smoke would actively castrate himself if it’d meant the outburst would be forgotten. Yet Mute looked at him with a newfound curiosity. He definitely seemed uncomfortable-though it seemed it was less from him and his words and more so the uncertainty on how to go about the action. Smoke didn’t push, stayed back and watched Mute with widened eyes and a sharp intake of breath and visibly relaxed once Mute made his way over to Smoke with darkened eyes and a deep blush tinting his fair skin. The edges of Smoke’s lips quirked upwards, a certain hunger surging throughout him that only ceased when Mute tentatively curled his hands underneath his jaw forcing Smoke to look up at him in the eye. Mute’s gaze was locked on Smoke’s lips, staring at them analytically like he was an unsolved equation. Unknown, fulls of errors, yet teasingly inviting and interesting nonetheless.

When Mute had finally pressed his lips against his, he felt like he was dancing in the air. Nimble, unorchestrated, yet gorgeous and lively all the same. The taste of bay leaf tea was sharp and prevalent. Despite the taste not being one that Smoke enjoyed and found abhorrent, it was different when he tasted it on Mute’s tongue and he couldn’t get enough of it. Smoke experimented, tried different angles and swiped his tongue over Mute’s and keened into the soft gasps and mewls that escaped his mouth to figure out the best ways to make Mute’s knees weak. Smoke felt a sudden warmth against him, the lovely feeling of Mute’s body pressed against his gave him a euphoric feeling and heightened Smoke’s senses. He felt stiffness near Mute’s crotch, the evidence of his enjoyment prevalent in their touches that sent Smoke soaring. He was glad he wasn’t the only one getting hard from just _kissing_.

Smoke pressed his thigh between Mute’s groin, cheekily shifting his leg up to rub against the tent forming in Mute’s skinny jeans that were probably starting to get uncomfortable because from what Smoke could tell he was definitely well-endowed. A thought that would definitely eat at his mind in future nights and made his dick throb painfully in the confines of his own jeans. Perhaps he should’ve worn sweatpants if something like this was going to happen, it would’ve definitely made the process comfortable. Mute let out a whine that Smoke swallowed greedily, thoughts of his discomfort forgotten and replaced with hazy lustful thoughts of all the different kinds of sounds he could force out of Mute. _In due time_, he thought with slight annoyance he tried to disguise as hope. _If there was a next time._

Smoke nibbled on the bottom of Mute’s lip before moving to kiss sloppily on the underside of his jaw humming along to the chaotic instrumentals that continued to play softly from Mute’s phone that only accentuated the chaotic beating of their hearts, and lavished in the noises of surprised arousal when Smoke sucked a small mark on his neck underneath his ear. Perhaps he was getting a little too carried away, but Smoke was an avid enthusiast of the _carpe diem_ ideology. He was definitely trying to seize this moment, and Smoke hoped that this would be the story Mute would tell of his first kiss rather than his other one that _still_ made him angry.

“James,” Mute hissed out through clenched teeth, though Smoke paid no mind to it-far too enveloped in the task at hand to take notice. Hands grasped firmly on his shoulders, pulling him away until Smoke was staring at Mute with a doped expression-confused at Mute’s sudden actions and tried not to get disappointed because he was _really_ getting into it. Smoke was starting to crave Mute's warmth, finding himself oddly empty and exposed without the taller man's body pressed against his. Mute’s gaze was dark, brown eyes blown wide with lust and lips red and swollen. There were fading red marks on his jaw and neck, and Mute looked absolutely ravished-a sight for the gods that he’d hope he’d never forget.

“James, stop.” Smoke froze, forgetting to breathe. _What_? Smoke couldn’t help but feel agitated, _had he done something wrong?_ Did he misread Mute? Overstep his boundaries? Yet Mute made no effort for clarification-merely looked at Smoke in shock and vague fear. Smoke frowned, there was no way he could’ve misread this-Mute was still hard, and he wouldn’t have kissed him if he didn’t want to… Or did he do it for Smoke’s sake and pleasure and now it had gone too far? _God_, this was confusing.

“Huh, what? Did I do something wrong?” Mute’s grasp on his shoulders tightened painfully, and he regarded Smoke with guarded expression and a shake of his head.

“No, but just uh-leave. Please.” Smoke blinked, open disbelief because **_what_**? He tried to mask his anger, yet he was sure he came across as purely bitter regardless._ This was a mistake._

Smoke opened his mouth multiple times to respond questioningly, but words failed him every time and left him gaping like a fish out of water.

He reiterated his statement from earlier. Mute was filled with surprises. Yet this was the first negative surprise. It left him disorientated and feeling foolish-a feeling that never left even when the flat was long out of his sight in the rearview mirror of his car.

-

  
The first sound he’d heard when he’d returned home was the sound of soft crying, the sobs unfiltered and completely foreign-yet nonetheless familiar. A sound he hadn’t heard in perhaps years, and it left a pain in his heart that made him want to strangle its perpetrator or hell, anything to death-the confusion and disappointment he’d felt from his visit to Mute’s place earlier still weighing in hard on his chest and now this? Smoke ventured into the halls, stopping by the doorframe of Abby’s room listening intently to the sounds of pain leaving his daughter’s mouth.

“Abby?” A surprised gasp could be heard from inside the room as Smoke knocked on the door hesitantly before going pushing it open to go inside, sitting on the chair to her computer desk next to her bed where she was hunched over facing the wall. Avidly avoiding his gaze, yet he could still hear her sniffles and watched with a saddened rage as she wiped under her eyes.

“Yeah?” She croaked out, and if the timing and mood had been any different Smoke would’ve said she’d looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame hunched over like that-yet it wasn’t appropriate. Hearing about Abby’s problems was rare, and she’d always enjoyed living life in blissful ignorance rather than dwell in her emotional turmoil. Even early on when he’d first adopted her, still fully experiencing grief from the loss of her loved ones and having nobody, she remained ignorant by choice even if the facade cracked when the sight of nuclear families overwhelmed her young mind. Not that Smoke could blame her, for he did the same thing too and he’d be hypocritical to judge her for it.

“What’s wrong? And don't say nothing sunshine, because whatever it is that’s going on isn’t nothing.” Smoke snaked his arms around her in a comforting embrace, humming a soothing tune quietly as she relaxed against his chest and turned around to reciprocate the hug-though she still hid her face in his jumper.

“I hate boys, they’re all such _fucking_ tossers. Absolute shitheads. _Libertines_.” Abby let out another sob, clenching the fabric of his jumper. Smoke moved one of his hands to place it on Abby’s back, feeling her tremble against his touch. Anger radiated inside of him at this unnamed individual for causing such pain to his daughter, perhaps he should go boxing again soon to relieve all this sudden distress out on something. 

“I-He was trying to be all weird with me, and I’m not interested in all that so he’s just ghosting me now and telling our friends that I'm something I'm not… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m ruining your nice jumper.” It was at times like these Smoke wished more than ever that he had a more… feminine role model for Abby, and often thought about how disconnected he tended to be with her because there were just some things he couldn’t relate to due to their difference in generation and because she was a girl. He still never shook the awkwardness off when he bought Abby feminine products, and still to this day cringed when he thought about his explanation to her on what menstruation is years ago.

Yet this time, it was different-he could find himself relating vaguely to her distress even if the situations were quite different. It was odd and made him feel vaguely immature.

“Don’t apologize, I'd ruin my entire wardrobe for you. I’m sorry though, about what happened, but I'm glad you were able to stay true to your comfort zone. He’s not worth your time or friendship.” Abby didn’t respond, merely let out a shaky breath though he could feel her relax slightly. She didn’t seem to be crying anymore, merely suffering the after-effects of a hardy cry with labored breathing and the slight tremble here and there.

“How did your date go? You’re back earlier than I'd thought you would be.” Smoke let out a deep exhale, wincing slightly at the recollection of Mute’s sudden coldness-a vibrant contrast to the warmth he’d normally feel in the company of the other defender. He’d hoped he could go to sleep with a clear mind, yet it seemed fate had other plans for him. He knew Abby was trying to be humorous and lighten the mood-but it was a little too soon and the wounds weren’t healed yet. She just put salt in the wound, and it was _really_ starting to sting.

“I hate boys.” Smoke replied with a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he felt Abby lift her head up to look at Smoke with a questioning gaze. Her eyes were still glossy and red, but he was sure his were too. He could feel tears prick at the corner of his eyes that threatened to spill. The stress of having been rejected without a clear explanation of why, and his daughter’s break down weighing in heavy on his heart. His statement brought a sliver of a smile out of Abby however, so he deemed its purpose fulfilled.

“Yeah, absolute trash-all of ‘em.” Abby giggled when Smoke feigned offense, and the sorrow unfamiliar mood started to dissipate.

“There’s ice cream in the freezer though, and you know what they say about a broken heart and icecream.”

There wasn’t any though, or at least not enough for both of them. So Smoke porked over the last few spoonfuls to Abby before having the absolutely phenomenal idea of going to an actual shop and “pig out” despite it being 22:30 on both a school and a work night-something he squinted at despite Abby’s protest. It was nice though, a moment that’d be unforgettable even if he’d regret it in the morning when they’d eventually returned at a time completely unacceptable-though Abby managed to convince him it was fine because apparently this was the time she’d usually go to bed regardless. Something slightly troubling, yet she managed to fare fine in her studies with her apparent schedule so Smoke didn’t probe further. 

The icecream motto was wrong though, it didn’t heal his heartache and only made him feel worse. Despite the rich flavoring of the icecream and the strong mint taste of toothpaste, he still couldn’t get the taste of bay leaf tea out of his mouth.

A constant reminder that taunted him throughout the dark hours of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> after neglecting tumblr for years, i'm back and better than ever. so come say hello, hola, bonjour, guten tag, etc.
> 
> https://magpiesxd.tumblr.com/


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